Reckless
by The Petulant Prodigy
Summary: There's nothing scarier than accepting yourself. I found that out the hard way. Tatsuki/Halibel friendship eventual yuri OOC AU. Warnings posted inside.
1. Chapter 1

_**WARNING:** **This story is eventual yuri (girlxgirl) which means eventual girlxgirl sex between Tatsuki and Halibel and possible side pairings of boyxgirl and boyxboy because, to be honest, I need the diversity to stay in truth. There will be mentions (if not graphic) use of molestation, abuse, drugs, foul language, and issues involving gender and sexuality.** I am not saying my views are the one true God, but when it comes to religion, politics, and sexuality, people get riled up. If you review, don't declare war. If you are reading this and consider yourself a member of the LGBTQ community or an LGBTQ ally, these are simply ideas and frustrations I have encountered personally or in my relationships or with friends, so I am in no way trying to offend. I understand the differences between each individual's sexuality and I respect everyone's individual decision towards gender. I in no way am implying that sexuality is "a choice" or "a phase" or that abused or molested children turn to the sex that they have not been abused by for comfort. Although that may happen occasionally or be an excuse or whatever, I am here to tell a story, not declare war. -TPP_

_**WARNINGS: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MOLESTATION OF A CHILD, FOUL LANGUAGE, AND MENTIONS OF DRUG USE. **__**CHARACTERS WILL BE OOC, BUT I MATCHED THEM AS BEST AS I COULD.**_

_**THIS CHAPTER IS TOLD FROM TATSUKI'S PERSPECTIVE AND IS A BIT OF A BRAIN-TIME-SKIP, SO I APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE FER THE INCONSISTENT TENSE CHANGES. AFTER THIS CHAPTER, THERE WILL NOT BE SUCH DRASTIC TIME SKIPPING. **_

* * *

_**Dedicated to Ky for pushing me and KatInTheShade for befriending me like I deserve it. Both of you have no idea how talented you are and how you push me ta be a better writer and a braver person. I'd be nowhere without you guys. **_

* * *

**Reckless**

_"Things cannot be reversed, we learn from the times that we are cursed_

_That things cannot be reversed, learn from the ones we fear the worst_

_And learn from the ones we hate the most…how..._

_Blow out the candles, blow out the candles."_

_–Daughter "Candles"_

**Chapter 1.**

* * *

**5 Years Old.**

My Barbie has on a pink tutu-like dress. Her hair is blonde and really curly.

Her neck is almost as thin as her waist. Her hand snaps off between my fingers.

I cry for about a minute before I tug on the dress. I play with the Velcro on her back until I've stripped her.

Now she's naked except for little purple boots.

I wrestle her into the mermaid outfit covered in green glitter that doesn't come off in my hands.

I put her hair in pigtails then strip her again.

I poke her chest, than undress the other Barbie I have. Her skin is slightly darker and her hair is in a braid that my mom just taught me how to do.

I set them side by side sitting up, like they're holding hands.

They're both naked and smiling.

My brother charges into the room. He's only a year older than me.

"Come play Legos with me," Shirosaki demands, staring at my naked dolls, "Why they naked? You're supposed ta' dress 'em up. "

I throw them into the play box and go build Legos. We make massive towers and we fight over who gets to work the helicopter.

The next time I play with Barbie, I rip her head off and stuff it under the couch.

* * *

**7 Years Old.**

"Why do I have to be the pink Power Ranger?"

My brother hits me on the head with his white Power Ranger action figure, "Cuz 'yer a girl, stupid."

"I'm not stupid. I want the red one."

"No! That' s my favorite!"

"Then I'm not playing!" I scream, slamming his bedroom door behind me.

I don't talk to him for the rest of the day. I'm too pissed to play by myself so I end up lying on my "bed" which is a mattress on the floor in the hallway between the bathroom and living room. This is Andrew's "house", my soon-to-be-stepdad's trailer, a two-bedroom piece of shit with brown shag carpet with a single couch and no cable.

Mom and Andrew wanted to move in together before the wedding. Mom sleeps in Andrew's room and my brother's room is basically a closet, so I get to play squatter.

S'not so bad. I pretend I'm camping, especially when I can hear the bugs chirping outside and the rats under the floor.

Shirosaki isn't really my brother. We don't share the same blood. I say he's my brother because he should be: he protects me and teaches me things, like how to catch a grass snake or how to throw rocks so that they skip on the water.

And we like all the same things: Power Rangers, dirt bikes, monster trucks, pogs, Batman. We play outside all day until the mosquitoes are so bad we go inside and wrestle each other on the living room floor.

He almost always wins.

* * *

**9 Years Old.**

"Hey," Shirosaki says, sucking on a piece of candy, "Let's play a new game."

"What kind of game?"

He shrugs and leans against the side of our bunk beds. We're sharing a room until the den of our new house gets converted into a bedroom for me. It'll be purple with flowers on the walls. Mom wouldn't let me have anything else even though Shirosaki's room is blue and I wanted green.

Stupid mom.

"How 'bout Doctor? You have to take yer shirt off, though."

"Why?"

"Cuz I'll be the doctor, then you can be the doctor."

I'd been to the doctor before. I don't know why my heart was beating so hard as he slid his hands over my naked chest. I was lying down, him hovering over me. His fingers tickled over my ribs, my belly button, than back up to my chest. Mom makes me wear bras even though they're uncomfortable and I hate them. Since it's a training bra, Shirosaki unclasps it from the front and runs his cold hands over my now-loose chest.

"Your boobs are hard," he says, pinching my nipples.

"I don't want to play anymore."

He shrugs and lets me pull my shirt back down, "You wanna be the doctor now?"

He laughs as I bury my head into my pillow.

He curls up next to me until I eventually come up for air and we bump foreheads.

"It's a stupid game," he says, pecking me on the lips.

This was familiar. We kissed all the time. On the cheek, on the forehead, but Shirosaki had never kissed me on the mouth. Only mom and Andrew do that.

It was nice. He hugged me closer until we dozed off.

* * *

**11 Years Old.**

When it thunders, Shirosaki doesn't like to sleep alone. I'm not afraid, so I let him sleep next to me, his head buried between my shoulder blades.

His arms and legs are already getting so long: he's getting longer and longer everyday while the only thing that seems to be growing on me is my chest.

Give it a year, maybe two, and his feet will be hanging off the end of the bed.

It's already unfair enough when we play basketball or soccer. He's taller, so he always knocks my shots away from the basket. He's got longer legs, so he can run faster than me and get a goal. Then when I say I'm done, he'll tell me to stop being such a girl.

He likes that I'm a girl but not a "girly girl."

"You act like a boy but you have big boobs. What's wrong with that?" he'd say before chomping on a Snickers, his favorite snack. He could eat whatever he wanted without gaining a pound. I used to hope when he got old he'd be the size of a sumo wrestler.

"Tatsuki."

"Huh?" I say, turning onto my other side so that we're facing each other. It's dark but we can see each other's eyes.

He runs his thumb over my bottom lip.

"I'm gonna go live with my mom."

* * *

**12 Years Old [or] Puberty.**

It's not like I could've stopped it.

His mom lived two hours away. I barely ever saw him. My best friend and brother, the person who was basically my twin, just vanished. When he did come around, he smelled like cigarettes. I hated that. He shaved his head, telling me not to worry about him, that he was fine, that his mom was cool.

His mom was getting remarried.

"I'll have a stepbrother," he said with a crooked smile, "nice, huh?"

_This is what rejection feels like. _

"I'm your brother."

He laughed, almost six feet tall, and said, "You're my lil' sister, Tatsuki."

I'd shoved him in the chest until he fell into the dirt. We were at the local neighborhood park skateboarding, my whole body shaking until I felt like I would beat him until his whole body was black and blue.

"I hate you! Stay away from me or I'll kill you."

I didn't see him for weeks after that. I didn't call him, he didn't visit. I was miserable.

That's when Andrew started touching me.

Mom worked late shifts. Sometimes she wouldn't get home til midnight.

He had a bad back and wanted neck massages. Then he said he'd give me a massage.

The first few times, he'd just skim underneath my shirt, touching along my spine.

After that, he started touching my belly.

After that, under my bra.

I couldn't move. I couldn't do anything but sit there and stare ahead at the tv screen like I was being sucked into the show, my heart hammering out of my chest.

Touching touching touching.

Shame. Humiliation. Fear. Anger.

He'd come into my room. Lay down with me in my bed.

I was silent, unmoving.

Touch touch touch.

His hands moving along my rib cage, over my stomach, down to…

_**No.**_

"Your panties are wet."

His fingers probed. I was going to throw up.

More pressure, rubbing. I squirmed, trying to close my legs.

"Stay still, Tatsuki. It's just a massage."

I didn't cry even after he left.

* * *

**Middle School Year 1 [or] 6th Grade.**

I'm sitting in front of the principal's desk and he's looking at me like I'm some kind of mutant.

I'm not much to look at, although I'm tall for thirteen at five foot eight. I probably won't grow any more. I'm a head taller than most girls in my middle school, which is probably the only reason my basketball coach puts up with my attitude. I have a square face and mud brown eyes pushed back in my head that makes it impossible for me to wear eyeliner, but I make up for it with thick black eyelashes.

Most people don't approve of my wardrobe, but it's within the school dress code: black jeans, black collared shirt, and short, black spiky hair. I'm the only girl in the entire middle school who paints her nails black. There's a rumor going around that I'm a witch. The eight studs in my ears are silver and school policy dictates no more than two piercings in the lobes of females while males cannot have any ear piercings at all.* I was reprimanded by several teachers and even given a detention and told to take them out. I refused. Got another detention. Refused again, got a call home. Took a Saturday school sitting in a white room for four hours to think about my rebelliousness.

Still didn't give in. They gave up after that.

But he's not staring at my ears anymore: he's staring at my chest.

I hate my chest. My first year of middle school and I'm a D cup. It doesn't matter how form fitting my sports bras are. It doesn't matter that I wear two undershirts. I was wearing training bras by the time I was seven. I wasn't allowed to play with my male cousins in the pool topless since I was four while most other girls could get away with it until they were eight or nine.

People have been staring at my chest since third grade.

I hate my chest.

I don't blink. The principal clears his throat.

"So, would you like to talk about why you're here, Arisawa?"

"No. Not really."

"I'll have to call your parents."

The mustached principal really hadn't had much in his arsenal that fall semester. Threatening to call my parents was the equivalent of smacking me on the wrist, especially when I was sure my mom would laugh in the principal's face, or at least laugh at him over the phone when he told her why I was even in his office to begin with.

"Do what you have to do. Detention, whatever, but I'm not apologizing."

His beady little gopher eyes had gone all screwy. His shirt had become less and less starched before my eyes, "You will apologize to those girls. Then you will apologize to your gym teacher, and you will be compensating the school for the broken stall."

Yeah. This is the part where I laughed at him.

He was being so funny. Like there was any way any of those things were going to happen.

"Can't you just suspend me?" That's what he did for all the other bullying, tyrannical misfits. Why was I being excluded? Maybe he was being sexist.

"I'm suspending you for a week," he started, building up speed like a shiny, bald locomotive, "When you come back, you have mandatory weekly sessions with the guidance counselor for the rest of the semester. What you did today will not be repeated: I will not tolerate fighting in my school."

I heard everything he said. It made sense, in a way. He needed a scapegoat. I'd known going into it that I was going to lose. After all, three girls' words against one was always going to win, especially when one of said-three girls had a bloody nose and a black eye and had wailed the entire way to the nurse's office.

"I'm not paying for the stall," I said when he was finished, referring to the handicap bathroom stall in the girl's locker room. When they'd played their little joke on me, refusing to let me out, it hadn't been my fault that the door had cracked off of the hinges.

It hadn't been my fault when I was finally out and able to get my hands on one of the girls. It hadn't been my fault when I slammed her head against the tile wall and punched her like Shirosaki had taught me.

It wasn't my fault that they had come back to the locker room to get me alone while I was changing, talking shit through the door. It wasn't my fault that they had called me dirty names and told me I was disgusting.

They had said they saw the way I looked at girls. They'd called me a fucking bull dyke before putting all of their weight against the stall door so that I couldn't get out.

Thirteen years old. Three against one.

_"I can't believe Coach lets you change in here with us, it's gross."_

_"Fucking lesbian."_

I didn't like girls any more than I liked boys.

They had threatened me.

"Fine. I will have the girls split the cost with you. I don't believe they are as innocent as they have presented themselves."

Split the cost. Make it equal. Make it right.

Problem solved. Case closed.

"I'm not apologizing."

"Maybe when you come back next week," he offered.

A week later, everybody's eyes are on me.

It felt that way, anyway.

I was forced to apologize to the girl I'd nearly sent to the hospital's parents to avoid a lawsuit with the school. I even pretended to mean it.

In gym, I opted to change in the lobby bathroom.

Later, at lunch, Orihime asked me if I was feeling okay.

She was a total ditz, one of the dumbest girls in the middle school, but she was sweet and knew everybody and happened to have bigger boobs than me. I imagined myself smitten.*

"Yeah. I'm good."

Funny.

Not even an hour later, during history, I watched one of my bullies pass her a slip of paper.

I knew what was on it, but I hadn't been ready for it.

It's a good joke, right?

This is why guns are unnecessary. Humiliation gets the job done quicker and there's no cleanup. Not much evidence, either.

She avoided me for a long time after that. We had been friends.

So later when one of the boys from the basketball team shoves me into a row of lockers and tells me to watch where the fuck I'm going, I'm grinning.

It takes a teacher screaming my name repeatedly and four boys from my class to get me off of him.

My face hurts. My lip was split open, the taste familiar.

I watch the blood gushing from the boy's nose, his hands shaking from anger before he's garnering sympathy from the students that have begun to flock around him.

His teammates are still tugging me, dragging me. I kick out viciously again, my sneakered foot connecting with someone's legs.

Blood pound pound pounding in my head.

* * *

Mom's called to the school. She's sitting in a chair next to me, her face hard as the principal and guidance counselor offer the options available to a troubled student such as myself.

I'm smiling the entire time. Mom's been medicating me for years, siphoning off of her own personal menagerie of prescriptions. The guidance counselor wants to commit me to a city-run youth therapy group, a kind of anger management for minors. To avoid expulsion from the private academy, I would have to attend the sessions three times a week after school, including private sessions with the school guidance counselor every morning before classes to keep me in check.

My mom agrees to the conditions not because she cares but because she doesn't. It's too much hassle to move me to another school. She doesn't have time for this.

I agree with her.

It doesn't matter where I go. I hate everyone equally.

The principal doesn't even look at me as he says, "It's an incredible program. I really feel this is for the best."

And I think _choke on a knife._

* * *

I make the guidance counselor uncomfortable.

I can see it in her eyes.

Her name is Mrs. Perroway. She's in her early fifties and a long distance runner. I know this because she is the assistant coach of the school's track team and plaques adorn the cream-colored walls of her office like a particularly potent outbreak of herpes. Her hair is red and short in a bob cut, her lips too small for her face, making her look like she's constantly sucking on lemons. She drinks herbal teas and her tiny office is filled to capacity with penguin memorabilia. I'm assuming it's her favorite animal or she needs a therapist more desperately than I do.

Her big steel rectangle desk keeps her as far away from me as possible, her fortress of protection from her students.

She stares down at my open student file, her glasses resting at the end of her nose, "So, Tatsuki, is there anything in particular you want to talk about today?"

My finger twitches on the armrest, "Don't call me that. I don't know you."

"Oh, I'm sorry, um…Arisawa, is it?" she says with a half-hearted smile, "Tatsuki is such a unique and beautiful name…"

"Why do you like penguins?"

She laughs lightly, taking a sip from a red ceramic mug with a dancing penguin on it, "Oh, they're just lovely, aren't they? Beautiful creatures. Do you have a favorite animal?"

"Yeah. I do."

"I hope it's not penguins," she trills. She reminds me of a skinny, obnoxious bird, "I think I have them covered."

"No, the Asian Cobra. They're white with flattened heads."

She smiles again even though her eyes stay worried, "Aren't cobras poisonous?"

"Yeah. Their venom is classified as a neurotoxin: it attacks the central nervous system. Nearly instant asphyxiation."

She's seen my records. She knows I'm currently taking honors biology.

She knows I'm enrolled in the sophomore anatomy class, upstaging kids five years older then me.

They tried to talk my mom into giving me an IQ test or pushing me a grade or two ahead, but no, she didn't want to. So they'd given me a few "honors" courses to keep the private academy from looking like a bunch of incompetent retards.

She knows I currently hold the record for fastest cat skinner and dissector in the school's history, a kind of sick competition held by the school's long-standing anatomy teacher who used to be a mortician, Mayuri-sempai.

It's a stupid competition. Anyone can skin a cat.

Severing the connective tissue between the fur layer and the flesh is like cutting through wet dental floss using a scalpel as your tiny saw. It's all in the wrist, really.

Practiced patience.

Then you start peeling the fur layer back like a ripe, fermaldehyde-flavored banana.

If you did it right, you're left with a little cat fur jacket and a shiny, grayish cat carcass covered in sinew and muscle, smooth as a newborn baby.

Most students start hacking away at the belly, thinking that's the fastest way to skin and get to the organs.

I always start with the neck and work my way down. The skin is more malleable there, easier to manipulate and stretch.

One vertical cut from throat to groin, then one diagonal line at the top of the chest cavity, just like a cross. Too deep, you damage muscle. Too shallow, you start all over again.

I chew on my fingernail before looking her in the eyes.

The skin around her eyes is cracked with too much makeup, "I don't like snakes."

"They're overly aggressive and have no fear of humans."

Mrs. Perroway signs my session slip and lets me leave.

* * *

**_3rd Year of Middle School [or] 8th Grade._**

"Fuck school," Grimmjow growls, kicking at the desk in front of him. Nobody sits there anymore.

"Maybe we should quit and join the circus!"

Ichigo's glaring at the stupid Keigo kid who dares to sit in our corner of the history classroom, "Shut up, Keigo. Go be creepy somewhere else."

Keigo laughs awkwardly before turning around in his desk to start up a conversation with a kid with glasses. The teacher hasn't arrived yet, so everybody was either talking or texting.

"I need a cigarette," Grimmjow huffs, running a hand through his obnoxious blue hair, "Oi, we hangin' after taday?"

"My place," Ichigo says, flicking a paper football to Grimmjow's desk before grinning at me, "but we gotta stop at the head shop first."

"You break my bowl*, fuckwit?"

I listen to Ichigo and Grimmjow fight over who was paying for what. They're fucking retards, but we've stuck together for almost two years now.

Ichigo's smart but has a bad attitude. Grimmjow's an idiot at science and math but makes up for it in being able to beat the shit out of anybody and has enough charisma to power China. He can talk his way out of anything.

Nobody fucks with him, or Ichigo, because, you know, they're best friends. They fight like an old married couple that wants a divorce. I'm the child caught in that divorce.

They've had respect for me ever since the stunt I pulled in sixth grade where I sent that one chick to the hospital and put the co-captain of the basketball team in a nose splint.

I proved myself, I guess.

I'm more like Grimmjow in terms of rudeness and anger management, but me and Kurosaki naturally mesh together better. I dunno. They're the only friends I have.

I'm not deaf, either. I know what girls say in the bathrooms, in the hallways, about me.

At first it was hilarious. "Tatsuki The Slut" doesn't really have a ring to it. Apparently I was fucking (or trying to fuck) Grimmjow and Ichigo.

At the same time, too. We're still a little young for threesomes, yeah?

Anyways, when it appeared that we were just a bunch of pissed off teenagers with delinquent-like tendencies, the rumors just became vicious.

_Dyke. Lesbian. He-She. It. The Thing. Drag King. _

I could probably think of more.

Of course it bothers me. It would bother anyone, but threatening to kick someone's ass only works so many times.

Besides, silence always stirs the pot of animosity better. A grin or a wink was stronger than a hiss or a punch when it came to rumor mongers.

So the words still floated, but nobody was antagonistic quite as much as before. Grimmjow and Ichigo weren't exactly subtle when it came to the female population.

_"Don't talk shit about Tatsuki. She's the perfect woman." _

I snorted, remembering Grimm's defense of me in the cafeteria a couple weeks ago. He'd gotten up from our table and stormed over to some extremely loud and obnoxious underclassmen and just laid it out. A teacher had told him to sit down and be quiet or he'd get another detention. He told the girls they were all ugly trolls before taking his seat again.

I'll love him for that forever.

Ichigo and Grimmjow were calling each other names at this point so I settled it by saying I'd pay for pizza after the smoke out.

They instantly shut up.

Across the room, Orihime was staring at me. When she noticed I was staring back, she ducked her head.

I kind of miss her. She was always so nice to me.

I guess the second a rumor hits home, loyalty doesn't matter anymore.

Oh well. I got my boys and that's all I need for now.

The door to the classroom opens and our teacher, Yamamoto-sensei, is walking in talking quietly with a student I've never seen before.

I don't think anybody's ever seen her before.

The first thing I notice is her sea-glass green eyes.

My heart is in my intestines as Yamamoto ushers her over to his desk and hands her a few papers, talking to her about how there's a test in a few days but she could easily catch up on the material, how we're only halfway through World War I and that he was happy to have a new student join his ranks.

Her skin is like melted caramel, her blonde hair reaching her mid-back.

I can't stop staring at her legs. She has to be a swimmer.

Grimmjow grins and says something to me, but I don't hear him.

Yamamoto introduces her as Halibel from Hueco Mundo.

"Call me Hal."

Slightly husky, strong.

She isn't looking at me, but I want her to.

* * *

_...to be continued._

* * *

_A/N:__...That was exhausting.__Don't__worry:__the story is going to develop_**_ i_**_n high school and into college. And, since this is based off personal experience,__Grimm and Ichi aren't going anywhere anytime soon. In real life one of them goes away,__but I'm keeping both of them fo_**_r_**_ the sake of__t__his story's sanity._

**_*_**_This rule always irked me in__ **school**__**.**__ I never ga__ve in though_**_._**

**_*_**_I did__have__a crush on a girl in middle school who was just like Orihime but blonde._**_ Ugh._**

**_*_**_A__ bowl for smoking weed.__We have a cool head shop down here called Purple Haze.__I named mine Da Vinci until my friend Martin dropped it and broke it.__Forty bucks down the drain.__He never bought me a new one.__A bong is the safest way to smoke weed as the water helps filter the smoke, but glass is second and my preferred._**_ I_**_ **hate rolling** and I'm too impatient for it._


	2. Chapter 2

_So this came out of nowhere last night, or this morning. Started writing it around 1 a.m. and finished it at 3 a.m. cuz I stopped in between to make sushi. *shrugs* At least the ball is rolling now, yeah? -TPP_

* * *

**Reckless**

_"I took one straight to the heart_

_and it's not easy to talk about."_

_-'Oh Well Oh Well' Mayday Parade_

**Chapter 2.**

* * *

"The new chick's hot," Grimm chuckled.

"Damn hot," Ichigo agreed, passing me the roach. We were lounging on his neighborhood playground. It was a weird time of early evening. The place was deserted. It was a small plastic play set with ladders that led to plastic slides covered in knifed-in graffiti. We called it our tree house 'cuz the 'main tower' was taller than the rest of the lot.

Here we sat, surrounded by the sand pit, smoking until I felt my eyes prickling.

"Uh-huh," Grimm huffed after a puff, rolling his neck, "I'd hit that."

"Shut up," I mumbled, knocking my hand into the side of Grimm's head, making him grunt, "One, don't talk like you're not a virgin, and two, you don't know shit about her."

"Like you do?" Grimm said with a lazy grin, his eyes half-lidded from the two joints he'd rolled before we'd trekked to the park, "And that Nel babe sucked me off, so I'm less of a virgin than Ichi."

"Fuck you," he growled, flicking Grimm off, "We're fourteen. I'm not a fucking psycho pervert like you."

"Ya like my dirty magazines, though, so who's the pervert?"

"Who doesn't like them? Even Tatsuki likes them."

Grimmjow chuckled, "Cuz she's got good taste. Right, T?"

"True," I couldn't help saying with a smirk, smoke streaming out my nostrils.

I'd never voiced my preferences to my boys, but that's what I liked about boys: they didn't try to pick you apart and figure out every little detail like girls did. They accepted what they saw, which was when we'd been hanging out in Grimmjow's room and I'd found his stash of dirty magazines (hand-me-downs from his older brother who was off in the land of college) I'd picked one up and began perusing it. Nothing to be embarrassed about: porn is everywhere. Why people are so secretive about it is beyond me.

So it was never voiced, but my boys understood: I looked at women, but that didn't mean I looked at them with drool rolling down my chin or played part in the boys' lecherous lesbian fantasies, either. Grimm had asked me if I would make out with a chick in front of him if it ever came to that at a party and I'd punched him in the gut and he'd died laughing.

"Ha. I bet T's gotten farther with a chick then you have, Ichi," Grimmjow taunted.

Ichigo's eyes had gone wide, "Nah, she would tell us…right?"

"You guys are retarded."

"So the answer's _no?"_ Grimm said, a bit of surprise in his voice, "Shit, really? Not even a kiss?"

"Didn't say that, did I?"

I'd kissed a girl before. It hadn't exactly been fireworks, which had been confusing.

Then I started thinking maybe it was the lack of chemistry. We'd both been swimming in the pool over summer break and we'd been talking about boys. She had really liked this boy but didn't know how to kiss so she was intimidated.

I'd told her she could practice on me if she wanted.

_"BUT WE'RE GIRLS!"_

_"Lips are just skin, right? Male or female shouldn't matter, right?"_

And then she'd closed her eyes and nearly cracked my skull she leaned into me so hard.*

Talk about embarrassing.

So then I told her not to move and if it made her feel better, she could close her eyes.

She did, and then I leaned forward, my stomach floating somewhere else in the pool because _this was it. This was my first with someone that wasn't a childhood brother, and what would it feel like? _

Our lips brushed. She'd stiffened, blowing her breath against my mouth and then I'd tried again, longer this time.

She said it felt weird, and I didn't know if I agreed or not. It wasn't horrible, but maybe anticlimactic.

Weren't the movies always making a big deal about a first kiss? How it was all magic and fireworks and rainbows and stuff?

Then we'd tried tongue, and that had been pretty nice. She'd relaxed a little more, and so had I. It was just…whatever.

Maybe we were too young, or maybe we weren't into each other. Maybe making out with our pillows would have been more effective, I don't know. All I know is that I certainly didn't feel like a raging lesbian.

But when she'd gotten out of the pool and I could see the outline of her nipples through the bathing suit material, I was more confused then ever.

I chiefed the last of the joint down to a roach, wishing I had longer fingernails to hold it longer. I chewed them so much it was pointless, even with nail polish. The sports didn't help either.

Ichi and Grimm had both chipped in to buy me a new bowl, but I'd decided to blow it on some White Widow.

The shit's expensive. So Grimm had put his wonderful rolling abilities to good use and made us some grade-A celebratory joints. Ichigo'd never hit Widow before, so his face was flushed and he was laughing at just about everything right now. Funny shit.

Even now, he was propped up against the metal bars of the tower, hands completely limp in his lap, his head dipping side to side ever so slightly before he frowned, "Hey, did you know there's only four words that don't rhyme in the English language? Like purple…and orange…and road…"

Grimmjow cackled as I snorted, shaking my head.

There were all kinds of potheads and I'd learned quick how to classify my boys.

Ichigo was what you'd call The Philosopher: he'd get loopy as hell, lost in his own little world, but then would spew out the most random facts that turned into existential bullshit. Last time we'd smoked, he'd rambled about the concept of Einstein's theory of relativity and tried to apply it to the teachings of Gandhi. Grimmjow had punched him in the face.

Speaking of violence, Grimm was what I liked to call a Suicider: he'd lay low and mellow for a while, just talking shit, but give it a good minute and he'd be claiming he could jump down a stairwell and almost break an arm, or swim through the man-made lake that was basically a fountain-thing for the community. He'd scared the shit out of the ducks and some idiot old person had called the community security and chased him around with a golf cart. Suiciders would do anything physical, anything stupid, which belied the "sit-on-the-couch-and-grin-like-an-idiot" theory while gorging on mountains of snack food.

Me? Ichi and Grimm complain that it doesn't affect me at all. It makes my tummy warm and then ZOOM, I'm focused on everything around me, like it's magnified a hundred times. I'm smart, nobody doubts that, but I can't do homework without smoking first. My munchie syndrome kicks in later than the boys, but when it does, Doritos and peanut butter are sacred to me and me alone. I gave Grimmjow a black eye the one time he'd tried to take the peanut butter jar away from me when I'd just managed to wrestle open the package of double-stuffed Oreos.

But out of the three of us, I'm definitely the most coherent and manage to keep myself together, so I can keep these two idiots out of real trouble.

Like the time Ichigo drank a watermelon FourLoco before smoking out and throwing up on the side of a cop car*. Or the time Grimm decided he _just had to _shave his head before ingesting ten blueberry Pop tarts and an entire family size bag of BBQ potato chips.*

"_Toad_ rhymes with _road,_ fuckhead," Grimm countered Ichigo's argument, drawing me back to the present, "So much fer 'yer perfect lil' brains."

"Fuck you! I'm surprised they're letting you advance 'ta high school!"

Grimmjow grinned, ruffling Ichigo's hair, "It's 'cuz I'm so sexy."

"Yeah, well, I'm taller than you."

"We'll see who's talkin' after summer. 'Sides, Zaraki's been eyeballin' me for the varsity team since last year," Grimmjow leered, knowing he'd thoroughly pissed off his best friend. Ichigo was jealous of the amount of muscle Grimm had been building and his throwing arm when it came to football.

"Piss off, you won't even make cut for track…!"

"Fuck track. If I'm runnin', there better be a mountain'a bacon at the end, not some stupid tape. 'Sides, those shorts would rub my dick all raw."

I just shook my head: we were weeks from being done with middle school, but high school varsity sports tryouts were being held already. We'd had our physicals and despite what people thought or assumed, we didn't smoke nearly enough to have us pack on the pounds. Ichigo was one of the fastest runners I knew and was guaranteed a spot on the high school track team. Hell, he'd be the envy of the team with his endurance. It was just insane. He ran a six minute mile like it was a walk to his favorite store in the mall.

But Grimmjow had a point. Grimmjow wasn't as fast, but he'd put on a lot of muscle since last summer when his dad had given him a set of weights for Christmas. Considering we're just shy of fifteen, it's kind of dangerous, but Grimmjow was religious with his routine and did a ton of cardio to balance it out: no doubt this time next year he'd be a hulk compared to Ichigo's lithe runner's body.

We'd all played soccer together through middle school, but they'd eventually split us up because we'd run drills and host scrimmage games with guys vs. girls. It had physically hurt to be looped in with the girl team: maybe three out of the twelve had even been interested in actually playing the fucking game while the others complained about how hot it was and how gross it was to sweat and how their hair looked stupid in pony tails while I was sliding in the mud and had dirt on my face, my shirt a second skin with sweat.

Even the boys had complained that it was useless practice: the girls weren't giving them enough training. What would happen when they had to play against other schools? Those teams would be aggressive and out for blood, not whining and bitching like girls on their periods.

It was disgusting, but what was even more humorous were the three or four female athletes in volleyball or soccer or basketball that took it to the level where the sport was no longer an activity, a game: where it became nothing but the very blood pumping through your veins because they wanted a scholarship. That was bullshit, too.

I did it for fun. I did it because after, when I was lying in the grass trying to catch my breath, my muscles spasming, my chest heaving, I'd forget about how shitty my home and school life was. The adrenaline, the pain, the torture and the thrill, that was a high I couldn't get anywhere else.

As far as high school was concerned, I'd already earned myself a place on the varsity volleyball team, the only middle school female who made rotation. I'd decided not to go on to basketball because I couldn't stand the coach. Coach Soi Fon had a tampon shoved so far up her cunt it was brushing her uvula.

Grimm and Ichi loved sports, so they were planning on trying out for everything.

"You seen who she's hangin' with?" Grimm said offhandedly, suddenly back on the topic of the new-ish girl. It had been two months already and none of us had made any attempt at contact with her.

Not like I could. With looks like that, I already knew she'd be lured immediately into the inner bitch circle, the ultimate mean girls: the ones who fucked each other's boyfriends and talked nonstop about the hottest trends and carried around fake Juicy Couture bags and claimed them to be real and got professional manicures every other day because their Cuban nannies drove them wherever they wanted.

And the popular girls would mean every popular boy would have immediate access to her, too. They'd play coy, or cool, or comedian, and, oh yeah, wouldn't that just get them into her super hot pants saying 'take me take me I'm yours'?

My stomach was rolling at the thought.

"Wasn't she sitting with Mila Rose and Menoly in the caf?" Ichi said, already mellowed out again after there current argument. Their fights never lasted long, "Hopelessly sucked into the corrupt dark side vagina vortex. Menoly is evil, but Hal looks like she can handle herself, ya know?"

"She's hot: that face can get her wherever she wants to go," I said bitterly, "they'll accept her whether she's a bitch or not, whether she's a liar or not. It'd probably be better if she were both of those things, actually. Everybody in the KKK* has those traits." _  
_

"Someone's jealous," Grimm smirked.

"Shut up, troll. I'm just stating facts."

"True," Grimmjow said, scratching at his chin. He was proud of his stubble, "but I dunno. She's in my math. She's dead quiet but I've seen her test scores: you know how Aizen-sensei makes the numbers so big in red pen ya can see it from the next state? The girl's prob'ly got extra brains in her boobs 'cuz I don't think she's ever missed a point."

I punched him in the shoulder, "S'not like we can help our fuckin' cleavage, dickhead. We can't shrivel them up like a cold dick."

"Shit, ok, yeah, sorry," Grimmjow said, his face looking pretty sincere. I wasn't touchy about a lot of subjects, but sometimes they forgot how I felt about my own chest.

"I wish I didn't have any," I admitted, knowing I probably wouldn't have said it if my mouth wasn't feeling like cotton, my stomach still loopy, my head light.

It didn't matter how healthy I was, how much I worked out, how much I worked my upper body: I'd gotten from a high D down to a mid C, but they weren't budging any smaller then that. Even with stiff constricting sports bras, they were there and bounced when I ran during practice or even when I walked I felt them like weights over my heart.

"Are 'ya fuckin' crazy? You know how many girls would kill for this chest?" Grimmjow said, squeezing my boobs. It wasn't the first time he'd grabbed my chest and sure as hell wouldn't be the last, "That's why they treat 'ya like shit, T. They're fuckin' jealous that they're not as cool or have these."

He let go and Ichigo nodded in agreement and I couldn't help but shake my head and laugh so that I didn't cry.

I love these stupid bastards.

* * *

**First Year High School [or] 9th Grade.**

"Oi, Tatsuki, got a minute?"

"Sure, Coach," I said, wiping my forehead. We'd gone hard on drills in practice today. My overhand serve was the best on the team: I know Yoruichi-sensei was hoping for another flawless straight-fifteen serve against our school's biggest rivals next week.

Our last game had been the best I've ever been. I'd slayed every serve, the other team unable to hit the volleyball back even one time. It had been pretty pathetic, actually. The team had had about a fifty-fifty win/loss record, so who knows? Maybe I just sucked on their level and I wasn't as good as I thought I was, but Yoruichi-sensei had taught me a whole new level of pain in the practices following that match until I'd felt like my arms had been ripped from their sockets.

"You ready for next week?" she said conversationally as we made our way into her tiny office connected to the gym.

"Yeah, I'm feeling good. Why?"

She shrugged and flashed a big grin, "Just want my MVPs in top shape."

"Come on, Coach. I'm not stupid. Freshman don't get those."

She laughed, "Well, maybe next year. Who knows? Might make captain too."

"I don't think so."

She looked at me with her eyebrows drawn together, "Why not? You've got amazing range: you're not my fastest, but you're my most aggressive. You've gotten so much better with your fingers on the net."

Yeah right. We both knew my weakness laid in front line against the net: my arms had been made for long distance. When I got up against the net, my hands would hit so hard it'd come back against the net and in my face almost every time. I couldn't keep my fingers light, delicate, like the other girls. I didn't have that kind of control and sometimes I didn't know whether I was proud of that or jealous of the girls that could pull off the grace and the restraint.

But when I was in back rotation, forget it. I'd been born for the long distance range, and it was a hell of a lot more fun as it gave me free range with technique.

When I hit, I could go full court without even using my full swing and strength.

It pissed the other girls off to no end, especially the ones that were full of themselves and played only for themselves and not as a team unit.

"Because I'm not playing next year."

"What? Why?" she actually sounded pissed.

"Got a job. Can't commit to both."

"Yer a kid. School should come first."

I couldn't keep the venom out of my voice, "Not all of us have daddy's with Porsches and mommy's with credit cards, Coach. Some of us have to earn our bread, so no, I can't commit to this team longer than I promised with this year."

"Well that's a shame. Season's over in a few weeks," she looked wistful, maybe even a little hurt, "You're the best rookie I've had in years."

"Sure. Thanks."

She sighed, "Well, then I guess it's pointless to talk to you about the summer training camp isn't it?"

Ha. Like I could afford that. _8 hundred for 12 days? Fuck that. _

"Pretty much."

"Can't blame a girl for trying," she said with a nod of her head, "Finish out the season and, well, damn, I guess I have to let you go."

"Can I keep the jersey?"

She grinned, "Of course. I think you earned it. Just don't tell anybody. You know how the Athletic Director gets."

School policy dictated that the jerseys be returned at the end of each season. Retarded, really, considering they weren't reused, but whatever. I wanted it.

"Thanks, Coach."

I went straight to the locker room to change into something less sweaty when I heard one of the showers running.

I ignored it as I went into one of the bathroom stalls and wiped myself down with a towel, changing into a pair of black mesh shorts and a wife beater and my beat-up Orange converse sneakers with the words _'I Hate Strawberries'_ Sharpied on the toe of one.

Grimmjow was such a fucking idiot sometimes. Ichigo had wrote _'I'm a Dickhead'_ on his backpack in retaliation.

Making my way out, I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw who had been in the shower rooting in one of the sports lockers by the benches in nothing but a fluffy white towel with the school logo on the side.

She pulled out a brush and began to attack her long blonde hair, her back to me, giving me plenty of opportunity to gawk.

Up her ankles, past her calves, about mid-thigh, then the towel…then the top of her back, the muscles supple as her arms moved.

She was humming quietly to herself when I realized I was still staring at the back of her head where neck met a sleek shoulder.

My fingers tingled and my spine felt like it was sliding and locking.

Then she dropped the towel onto her hips as she pulled a baby blue bra from her locker.

_Thank god she's turned around. What would happen if..._

The second she snapped the bra into place, she turned towards the bench where her jeans lay.

Her eyes locked on mine.

I tensed up, totally panicked. I didn't know what to do, which was stupid, because I'd just gotten caught staring at another GIRL in the GIRL'S LOCKER ROOM, the place of my middle school nightmares.

"How was practice?"

I gawked at her, hoping my mouth wasn't dragging on my chest, "Huh?"

"You're on the volleyball team. I saw your match last week," she said, her grin crooked as she shimmied into baby blue panties underneath the towel. How she did that without tripping over herself and the towel not falling was scarily disappointing.

_Stop being a pervert. She's talking to you. _

"Cool."

_Bravo, Tatsuki, Great Master of Language. Continue to woo her with your extensive vocabulary. _

"Uh, yeah, practice was good. Coach is drilling us hard. What are you doing here?" I blurted.

"I'm on the track team," she said, finally sliding a shirt on over that cute bra.

My hands were in fists at my sides.

_Wait, track? _

"You're with Ichigo," I said, feeling like an idiot with how the sentence comes out.

Surprisingly, she gives another slightly crooked smile. I feel like my heart is going to pound out of my chest when she drops the towel and works her legs into a pair of skinny jeans.

"Yeah, he's a good running partner for practice meets. I admire his endurance. I run the hundred meter, though, so long distance has never been my thing."

_So you've got runner's legs, not swimmer's legs? _

She laughs and I feel like I'm burning all over, "I swim for fun. In California we practically lived on the beach, so I'm glad we managed to find a house as close to the beach as possible, so, yeah, I guess my legs are either one."

I want to kill myself. I'd said that out loud?

"Tatsuki, right? You're in my algebra class."

"And student government."

When she smiles again I feel the back of my neck burn.

_What is this? What's going on right now? Is this what flirting is supposed to feel like? _

"Hal, if you remember," she says, extending her hand. I feel comfortable to reach out and shake it slightly because, you know, she's finally fully clothed.

My palm feels all sweaty and gross and I squeeze her hand before dropping it, totally out of my comfort zone. I've never been good talking to girls in general (Grimm and Ichi have spoiled the shit out of me) so I never talk to any accept the couple that choose to communicate with me on the team, "Uh, Tatsuki. Hi."

Her smile is seriously going to kill me, her green eyes bright, "Hi back."

* * *

"I could kill you right now."

"I didn't know you cared so much," Ichigo said, taking a swig from a bottle of Gatorade at his next track meet. I'd never come to one because they were always off campus at other schools and he never seemed like he cared if I came to watch, so of course I was here now after that awkward exchange in the locker room the week before.

Christ, that small bit of interaction with the girl had nearly killed me.

And if I was being honest with myself, I was missing something heavy. Just thinking about her now made me want to throw up, but in a good way, like I'd drive myself insane thinking about that cute half-smile or how droplets of water had run down her back, the slight amusement in her husky voice…

_Christ, Arisawa. Get it together. _

"Yeah, she's on the track team. So what? It's not like we're buddies: she's really quiet. Friendly, I guess, but quiet."

"I'm totally jealous. So you got to see the goods?" Grimmjow asked, leaning back on the bleachers and staring at the few people stretching on the track.

Halibel was one of them.

And kami, it wasn't _fair_ that she was bent over like that right now, right in front of us, totally oblivious to the way I was thinking…

What _was_ I thinking? We weren't even friends. Hell, we were barely acquaintances. Running into a half-naked girl in a gym locker room does not constitute friendship, or even friendliness, although we nodded to each other in classes now or exchanged a small half-wave thing in the hallway. She was usually trailed by Menoly or Mila Rose or Sun-Sun or some of the older boys like Starrk or Renji.

_But she didn't freak out, or glare at you, or yell at you, or accuse you of..._

"She a good runner?" Grimmjow asks, bringing me back to the plain of reality.

"She's amazing at short distance. At a quick sprint, she'd leave me in the dust, but if it was distance or tag-team, I'd annihilate her."

"Cuz it's all about endurance, ain't it?" Grimmjow said, showing all his teeth, "Glad'ya can outlast a girl, Ichi."

"Fuck you!"

"Maybe later."

"Shut up!"

"MAKE ME!"

"Oi, get a room, homos!" a boy farther down the bleachers yelled, obviously peeved at having his riveting story to his friends interrupted by the loud obnoxious fighting teens.

Grimmjow and Ichigo simultaneously flicked the kid off, telling him to choke on a sandpaper dildo.

Like I said, these guys are complete idiots, but they're my idiots.

And sometimes their idiocy rubs off on me, so I laugh.

"Ya think she's a lesbian?" Grimmjow says after we're done laughing like retards.

"Why'd'you think that?" Ichigo asked.

"Cuz she's not staring at my godlike perfection or you," Grimmjow said, elbowing Ichigo and making him hiss.

I feel like I'm going to cry, and I only cry when I'm angry or frustrated.

Weird.

Because when I look at Halibel, she's looking right back at me. She lifts a hand and waves with that amused smirk on her lips.

For a second I'm too stupid to wave back.

I finally lift a hand hesitantly in a weird half-salute, Grimmjow and Ichigo watching with shit-eating grins.

Fuck. I'll never live this down, will I?

* * *

_...to be continued._

* * *

_Nice break from the angst is nice. Should be updating GS and finishing off PS and a few others before I come back to this one. I'll also be re-uploading 'This Is My Shit' and finishing that one off as well. A lot of my stories are ready to be wrapped up or continued and I've only got a week of school left, so updating should come rapid-fire in a few days. Hopefully. Or I'll be too busy reading Ky's new stuff to care ;)_

_*Yes, all those things really happened. Good times. Seriously: imagine a young teenage boy projectile vomiting alcoholic fruit punch onto the back window of a parked cop car. _

_*A/N: Kool Kid's Klub. I'm sure it sounds offensive, but that's what my tiny circle called the extremely popular kids that basically had to just smile and breathe to get whatever they wanted and were faker than plastic. That or Bitch Brigade. The most popular boys were the Pussy Patrol but when we were talking about all of them in general, they were the KKK. I'm sure they had names for us too, but I don't know what they were, haha._


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: To those who may bitch – again, this story is based off actual events/personal experience/real life. If it moves fast, well, a lot of things in life do. Most things you're not prepared for, or don't expect. Although the thrown-in yaoi angle is fictional. I wish it wasn't, but the personalities are still dead-on, I think. Does that make sense? -TPP**_

* * *

**Reckless**

_**"The sweetest submission, drinking it in**_

_**The wine, the women, the bedroom hymns."**_

_**-Florence + The Machine 'Bedroom Hymns'**_

**Chapter 3.**

* * *

_**10th Grade / 16 years old.**_

"Oi, fuck head, we're gonna be late," Grimmjow said, running a hand through his tangled mess called hair.

"Tell your boyfriend to hurry the fuck up, then," I spit back, flipping my blue-haired best friend off as he scowled at me. I'd just dropped my black rosary around my neck, the finishing touch to my outfit. I was rarely seen without it, fuck if I gave a shit about religion, but I felt weird without it. Dunno.

"Fuck both of you!" Ichigo called from the adjoining bathroom. The hairdryer was on full blast.

Jesus Christ, if Ichigo didn't come out of the closet soon, I was gonna drag him out.

We weren't going anywhere special. Lake Lobos was kind of the local teen hot spot for getting trashed without the threat of getting busted by cops. We'd only been raided twice, and the one time Grimm had nearly gotten himself arrested, but that had been months ago. It was off the highway and most of the land was protected for tortoises and other wildlife shit, so the small brown lake was a good place to party. There'd be plenty of liquor, fires, music, and horny teenagers.

What else was there to do on a Friday night when you didn't have a car?

Grimmjow was kicked back on my bed, his white Sick Puppies t-shirt we'd gotten at a concert ridden up just enough to see two black studs in his belly button. He was smirking at me as he wiggled a cigarette carton out of his pocket, pulling one out with his teeth, "What's up, T?"

I crawled onto the bed and pulled the unlit cigarette out of his mouth, tucking it behind his ear, "You know you can't smoke in my house. My mum will flip."

"I know," he said, leaning up and pecking me on the cheek, "So what's up? You're looking extra good tonight. Thunder Tits gonna be there tonight or what?"

I leaned back on my bed next to Grimmjow as we stared up at my popcorn ceiling, waiting for Ichigo and his stupid hairdryer.

Grimmjow had assigned the nickname to Halibel after watching her run at that track meet last year. I couldn't really blame him, and it had become our code of sorts.

"I dunno," I said honestly. Grimmjow was always straight to the point, but there were moments where he got pretty serious. Half a year had passed since I started noticing Halibel a lot more. At first Grimmjow and Ichigo had teased the ever-loving shit out of me about it, but now that we had just started tenth grade, gotten a year older, discovered sex and other shit, they weren't sure how I was going to approach the situation.

Because my infatuation hadn't died. I wasn't stalking her, but I sure as hell wasn't ignoring her either.

Sometimes we'd run into her at parties, most of them at Lake Lobos. The seniors would usually bring coolers and tailgate and charge under classmen for cheap liquor and people would smoke and drink or dance or just fuck around, figuratively and literally.

And Hal would smile at me, hold up her beer or something like that and I'd get all heated and nod back and then Ichigo or Grimm would look at me like I'd just found out my dog was going to die.

'Cuz the truth is, no matter how tough I act or look or how many people tell me I have a bitch face, I'm shy as hell.

"She's gorgeous, Grimm," I said, running a hand through my growing spikes. I couldn't _wait_ to graduate so that I could dye it and shave it into a proper mohawk. Goddamn private academies, "like I can barely look at her without swallowing my tongue."

"She's delicious," Grimmjow nodded sagely, hooking an arm around my shoulders as the hair dryer finally turned off, "but shit, T, you really gonna pass that up? I mean, how many times we seen her? S'not like anybody's hitting that; would'a heard something by now, you know? Renji says she's a stone cold bitch, but she's always smiling for you, baby cakes."

"Knowing that shit, you probably could'a been in her pants last semester," Grimmjow finished, cackling with laughter as I launched myself at him and we wrestled against my green sheets.

"Oi! No! Stop! _AHAHAHAHAHA!"_ he screeched. The bastard was so ticklish it was pathetic.

"Fuckin' idiots," Ichigo scoffed, emerging in all his glory: cargo pants, white button-up shirt, and brown Dockers. We kept telling ourselves it was a phase Ichigo was going through, but we were beginning to wonder if Ichigo would start listening to mainstream pop crap next like the rest of the idiots in our class if he was starting to dress like the prep robots of the private academy. We could smell the expensive polo cologne on him from here. Of course Grimmjow had to tell him he looked like he was about to get on a sail boat: we always teased him for being a prep, but he didn't dress like a twat one hundred percent of the time.

"Whatever, fuck face. We can't all look like we're homeless," Ichigo said, baiting Grimmjow as he picked up a dime bag of weed from my dresser and put it in one of his pockets to be consumed amongst our crew later.

"I'll take homeless over American Eagle Whore any day of the week," Grimmjow threw back, hopping up from the bed to throw a striped black and grey hoodie over his classic jeans-and-tee ensemble, his high top baby blue Chucks already on his feet.

"I second that," I said, sticking up my middle finger at Ichigo as he stuck his tongue out at me. If I wasn't wearing jeans and a band t-shirt or a hoodie I was in the shower. No exceptions.

"So, we ready to go, ass holes?" Grimmjow leered, texting Renji to pick us up. He'd gotten close to the loud-mouthed redhead because of the football team. He was pretty fucking awesome, and it wasn't just because he and I had identical taste in music or shared a mutual love of tattoos. He was a genuinely sweet guy and a senior, so it didn't hurt to have him as a friend since we were still sophomores and didn't get complete respect yet.

If I was being honest with myself, I was extremely attracted to him, but I was pretty sure Renji was into somebody right now, and I always felt weird thinking about him in an intimate manner.

There was no doubt in my mind I'd have sex with him. Just…it would happen. It would. I know myself well enough to know that I'd let it happen if the opportunity ever came up.

But…

Blue-green eyes and tan skin and light hair. A husky laugh. Legs for days.

No, I'm not crushing on Hal, not at all.

* * *

Renji blasted a mix cd covering everything from Black Sabbath to 3 Days Grace as we headed out to Lake Lobos. Grimmjow popped open a water bottle he'd filled with vodka and took a long sip before passing it to Ichigo who passed it to me. Renji didn't drink, which I thought was ludicrous for a male his age, but we respected his choices. He'd smoke with us, though, so it was always fun having him around. Plus that meant we had a designated driver who could pull us out of shit if we needed him to.

I'm pretty sure he knows he's our big brother figure. Ichigo had always wanted one and hung out with the red head more than Grimmjow did and he wasn't even on the football team. They'd actually dated and fucked the same girl, Rukia Kuchiki. I still kicked Ichigo in the balls over that relationship. What a little cunt. No love lost there. I'd never liked her.

"So you fucking that Spanish skank now?" Grimmjow asked as he finished rolling a joint. It pissed me off that he could roll a joint in a moving car so quickly. The dude had talent, "What's it like south of the border?"

Renji laughed and stared at Grimm through the rearview mirror of the Honda, "Nah, man. She's into me but I've heard some crazy shit about her. I don't want drama in my life right now."

"But crazy in bed is the best," Grimmjow said, blowing smoke out his cracked window before passing it to Ichigo.

"You'd know, man whore," Ichigo said, blowing smoke into Grimmjow's face.

It'd been about a year since Grimmjow had lost his virginity and already he'd managed to sleep with half a dozen girls. Maybe it doesn't sound like a lot, but for our tiny academy it was a big deal and gossip was Godzilla. He'd even gotten two boys who claimed to be straighter than arrows to suck him off, which I knew pissed Ichigo off but he never talked about it.

Ichigo had only ever slept with Rukia, but they'd dated a good solid amount of time and Ichigo was the loyal type, so I think it hurt his pride a little bit that Grimmjow was racking up experience when all Ichigo had been offered was tit-less vanilla sex.

Or it was because Ichigo wanted to fuck Grimmjow's brains out but Grimmjow was too fucking dense to see it.

I smirked: Ichigo was so hot for Grimmjow it was retarded.

I'd given Grimmjow hand jobs a couple times over the past year. We'd make out when we got really high, but Ichigo didn't know that. We were still best friends. I guess it's weird, but we definitely weren't together and it didn't hurt our relationship at all. Ichigo is my best friend, too, but Grimmjow decided that Ichigo didn't need to know that we were so open-ended about sexuality.

We love Ichigo, but he doesn't understand stuff like that. He's not a prude by any means, but he's just so loyal he can't wrap his mind around why something like that wouldn't make us boyfriend and girlfriend: that acts like that call for a label, an established relationship.

It doesn't, and when I say I can have belching competitions with Grimmjow and then give him a hand job later when he's too drunk to fuck somebody and he's whining at me that he'd do it for me, I'm serious, it's just the way it is. He even managed to talk me into a tit fuck once since he found out the damn things grew and I went to a 48D in less than two months.

So whatever. Guys were always trying to touch them anyway.

And then we smoke a cigarette, listen to Eminem, talk about celebrities we would fuck, and nod off to sleep. Me and Ichigo practically lived at Grimmjow's house 'cuz he had a basement room with a pool table and Nintendo and we'd been having sleepovers since middle school. I was never home on weekends. I don't think I've slept in my house on a weekend in years: it's always Grimmjow's big bed or a couch or something when we get stranded at a house party.

Renji finally pulled over off the gravel path, parking in some semi-long grass. There were so many tracks through this field from teenagers that it was more dirt than grass anyway.

We all piled out, scoping the scene. Two fires had been lit closer to the mud hole called a lake and some seniors were roasting marshmallows. Everybody had cups in their hands, some top 40 bullshit bumping from one of the senior's big trucks.

As long as it wasn't country I wasn't going to complain. It had happened one time and we'd bailed so fast we'd nearly gotten whiplash. We came out here to chill, not have a hoe down.

Grimmjow passed me his lighter. I lit a cigarette as more cars pulled up and more teenagers emerged, most of them girls with boosted cleavage and short skirts or jean shorts so short they were riding up their ass cracks.

A grey Honda pulled up. It made me finish my cigarette in record timing.

That was Starrk's car. Starrk was probably the most popular person in the entire high school: a senior who made straight A's but slept through most of his classes, so he had the perfect balance of genius for teachers but the 'cool' factor for the students. He was kind of an enigma: gorgeous but humble. He got along with everybody and everybody wanted to be his friend. He's the person that gets asked to every party; he's the guy that everybody wants to be seen with because it'll make people talk.

And everybody knew that Starrk and Halibel had become pretty much inseparable. Halibel always got rides from Starrk, which made Halibel a heated target for rumors and fan-girl hate.

But Halibel was popular in her own right, so it was like having teen royalty when they showed up at a party.

Starrk was dressed in his usual get-up that got everybody's panties wet because he always looked like a supermodel with no effort: tonight he was wearing cut-off jeans and a plain green form-fitting t-shirt with his shark tooth necklace. His hair was getting long, just brushing past his shoulders, which should have gotten him in trouble at school because of the strict 'proper grooming' rules, but somehow Starrk always got out of shit like that.

Maybe it was because he was filthy rich and his dad had paid for new computers for the school. That was probably it.

"My man," Renji said, bumping fists with his best friend since elementary school, "Wondering if you were gonna show up tonight."

Starrk yawned, "Wanna drink. Then nap."

Everybody laughed, including Halibel.

I knew I was staring but I couldn't help it. She was wearing a white sundress that went just past her knees, her hair in a braid. She had slipper moccasins on her feet and a couple beaded bracelets on her left wrist.

"You got a lady boner," Grimmjow murmured in my ear, offering me a blunt of purple.

"Fuck off," I mumbled, puffing on the joint. A couple more of these and I wouldn't be staring so hard at her.

Starrk's eyes landed on me, "Got anymore of that to share? I'll spot you next time."

"Yeah, got two dimes," I murmured, pulling the joint Grimm had rolled for me from behind my ear.

"Thanks," he grabbed it and pulled a lighter from his pocket, taking a few drags before holding it towards Halibel.

I lifted a brow. I'd never seen Halibel smoke, but she was from California. Didn't everybody smoke over there?

She took a long hit and blew the smoke out, her eyes landing on me.

Was my mouth hanging wide open? I dunno. I didn't taste any bugs.

"Hi," she said, lifting her hand in a half salute, "Thanks. I needed that. Starrk made me listen to Backstreet Boys the whole way here."

Starrk didn't even try to defend himself when Renji and Ichigo burst into laughter, Grimmjow leering at Starrk. He was probably going to be the brunt of most of the jokes for the rest of the night, but Starrk could listen to anything, probably DO anything, and everybody would be tripping over themselves to be listening and doing the same things come Monday.

"Apparently his tastes haven't evolved past middle school," Halibel added, making more people hoot with laughter.

I nearly choked on the beer I had stolen from Ichigo. Halibel's eyes were on me again. Feeling self-conscious, I leaned back against somebody's SUV and stared at the grass by Grimmjow's feet.

I felt like an idiot, and I felt way too tense for somebody that had been smoking for over half an hour.

I finished my beer as people continued to talk and mingle. It didn't take more than an hour for everybody to get slayed: Renji, Chad, and this Hanatorou kid and his girlfriend were the only non-drinkers, so I think they were having an even better time watching everybody get trashed and start to make a fool of themselves. Some people even started dancing as more techno-y stuff came on with the late hour on the radio and couples started to make out or disappear. Grimmjow offered to get me another beer, but I shook him off and lit another cigarette, heading for the far bank of the lake. The lake was small enough that you could probably walk around it in about forty minutes. I liked to wander by myself, and there were some light poles around, so it wasn't pitch black. Besides, I was pleasantly buzzed from my eight or nine beers and two joints: life was alright. The stars were pretty awesome too, even though there weren't a million of them.

Weeds were crushed underfoot as I wandered and smoked a cigarette, wondering if my pack would last the night when I heard someone walking behind me.

"Want company?"

I turned. Of course it was Halibel, because that made sense, right?

"Um, sure."

She had a cup in her hand. She took a sip and fell into step beside me.

The night was pretty chilly with the wind. I was thankful I'd been smart enough to throw on my favorite checkered hoodie.

We walked for a couple minutes in complete silence, her bracelets clanking every time she lifted her cup to take a drink, and that made me stare at her bare arms: there's no way she wasn't freezing, especially since her legs were exposed as well.

Those fucking gorgeous legs. Christ almighty.

"Aren't you cold?" I finally asked, flicking my cigarette into the nasty water.

"Oh. A little," she admitted with a shrug, "It was a lot warmer earlier."

"California spoiled you, huh?"

She grinned. I think I stopped breathing, "Yeah, it definitely did. I was built for surf and sand."

I didn't know what to say to that because I was too busy staring at where her neck met her shoulder. Her braid was over that shoulder, and for some reason that area on a woman's body had always been a target for me. It was just so sexy.

"Tatsuki?"

"Hm?"

She laughed, "I'm guessing you didn't hear me."

"Oh, uh, what?"

She laughed again. I stuck my hands in my pockets and hoped I wasn't blushing.

"I asked if you were dating Grimmjow?"

I stopped in my tracks, "Wha?"

"Oh. So you're not?" she said, tossing her empty cup onto the bank. I should be concerned 'cuz I don't usually litter, but a part of me thought it was kind of hot. A little nerdy rebellion, "I thought maybe you were. You guys seem really close."

"We're best friends, that's it. I know him and Ichi are best friends, but he's my best friend. They're my best friends."

Awesome. I was rambling now. This is why I don't usually drink beer: it tastes like piss and makes me feel retarded.

"That's cool. They seem sweet."

I outright laughed at this observation, making Halibel smirk, "You sure we're talking about the same people? They're both fuck heads, but they put up with my bullshit, so…" I trailed off, kicking at some pebble shit as we continued our slow walk.

"That's how I feel about Starrk. He's like the big brother I never had, you know? It's weird how people start rumors about us. I love him, but not like that."

"People love labels," I said, unzipping my hoodie and holding it out towards her, "Here."

"No, I'm good."

"Hal, I can see the goose bumps from here. I'm good," and I was. I was wearing an undershirt with a grey-checkered flannel rolled to the sleeves, black jeans, and all-black Chucks. I was toasty. I could always roll down my sleeves if I needed to.

"Been living here almost three years, you'd think I'd be smarter at this time of year," she said with a grin. Goddamn that grin.

I shrugged, "Still a little early. Never gets cold this early in Florida."

"Yah," she agreed, pulling my hoodie on. My hoodie practically eats her arms, but she folds them over her chest to guard against the cold. My guts squirm.

"You dating anybody?" I blurt.

She grins, "No. Not right now."

Why? This girl is drop dead gorgeous.

She smiles at me. Fuck.

"Drop dead gorgeous?" she says.

I want to kill myself.

"Uhn, what?"

She laughs outright, "I can't decide if you're drunk or nervous."

Probably a little of both.

She laughs again. Why does she keep laughing?

Why do I have mouth vomit? Why does God hate me?

"You're funny, Tatsuki," she says, pushing into my shoulder. I don't know how much she's had to drink, but a wicked part of me is starting to give me ideas.

Fuck, when did I become such a predator? I'd never take advantage of someone when they're drunk, ever. She's not stumbling or slurring or anything, but most girls get touchy when they're drunk.

That's all it is.

"There's no reason for you to be nervous. You can get as drunk as you want, though. I give you permission."

I laugh. I can't help it. It comes out pretty loud and she's looking at me and shit shit shit I just wanna kiss her so bad but I can't.

"Why not?"

WHAT?

Hal leans into me.

She's warm. Her lips press against mine.

Holy shit. Holy fucking hell.

She opens her mouth. She tastes like cheep beer and tangerines.

She pulls away slightly, licking her bottom lip with a smile, "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

This brain-to-mouth thing is not working for me.

"A good thing."

She smiles and kisses me again. There's no way this is real.

I blame the alcohol. She's going to be embarrassed tomorrow. She'll make up a story about how she was so drunk she doesn't remember anything. Or maybe she's fucking with me. Maybe she wants to mess with the school-appointed dyke.

This sudden thought makes me mad. I pull away, looking in her eyes. _Her pupils are dilated._ She's definitely been drinking. _Her face is flushed._ It's cold outside.

"What's wrong?" she says.

"You're drunk," I accuse.

"Tipsy, not drunk. I know my limits," she says, touching the side of my face, "What's wrong?"

I like her touching my face. I do, but she's been drinking and I've been hurt this way before, thought I had chemistry with someone but they were just really drunk and wanted to make out no matter the sex. It happens. It always happens, whether it's high school or college, there's always going to be that attention seeker, that rumor starter.

I hate that shit. I hate the fakeness and the naivety of sexual preference being a game.

"I'm queer, this isn't a joke to me."

The words come out harsh even to my own ears. I think Grimm would be proud. He's rubbed off on me over the years.

Queer has always been my preferred definition: it avoids the confusion of strict heterosexual law. I don't consider myself a lesbian, I can't stand when people think I'm a lesbian, and if I had to label myself something, it would probably be pansexual (Grimm and me Googled a bunch of sexuality terms our freshman year because I wasn't willing to settle on a misconceived term like bisexuality). Not to mention our mutual friend Ulquiorra had talked to us about how he was more than sure he was asexual, not having an attraction to either gender. There were so many labels and categories for sexuality it was ridiculous, so even though I haven't come out to my family yet, queer has always been the most comfortable for me to explain myself.

Hal blinks, "It's not a joke to me either. I'm into ovaries."

She says this with such a serious face I'm pretty sure I'm grinning like an idiot because then we're both laughing.

"Oh," is all I manage after a minute as she tugs at some blonde tendrils that came out around her face. I reach forward and push some behind her ear, "Um, that's cool."

"Besides, you're the one that said you wanted to kiss me," she said in a teasing tone, "I would've slapped you or something, you know? Or do you think I'm some kind of drunk slut?"

"N-no, I don't think that," I said, feeling kind of retarded now. Kind of forgot the whole brain-mouth vomit thing.

She leaned forward and pecked me on the mouth, "Good. I've been wanting to do that for two years, you know?"

"Yeah?"

"Almost kissed you in the locker room. Remember? You were so cute that day, but I wasn't sure, and the school is so small and homophobes lurk around every corner, so," she shrugged, "Now I know."

Damn.

"Oh."

She grinned again, "So you freaked out now?"

"Why would I be?"

Hal shrugged, "I've only told Starrk. My parents know, of course, but this town, this academy…I was hoping the school had a GSA, but they don't. I mean, a tiny private academy with a Bible Club usually means nobody's out and proud."

"So what? You heard the rumors and came to investigate?" I said. I couldn't help it: my defenses were up. There were more than enough people in the academy that still bullied me verbally. As far as I knew, nobody else in the school got called a raging bull dyke and he-she.

"I heard rumors, but that's not why I kissed you. I talked to you, and I was hoping we would become closer friends, but I'm not the bravest person in the world. I thought since you never really talked to me, you weren't interested in me, as a friend or otherwise."

I feel like an idiot as she explains herself.

"And how close you seem with Ichigo, especially Grimmjow. He's much more touchy with you, so I thought maybe you had feelings for each other, but I'm not gonnna lie, I'm glad you don't."

Suddenly my mouth is feeling too dry.

"Oh."

Spectacular, Tatsuki. English is supposed to be my best subject. Writing and reading is all I do outside of fucking around with Grimm and Ichi, and my vocabulary is suddenly sucked away from me tonight.

"Do you want to get another drink?" she says.

Her hand slides against my arm. Goose bumps everywhere.

"Yeah."

* * *

We walk back to the group of rowdy, loud, annoying teenagers. I'm not surprised to see some slut perched on Grimmjow's lap, Ichigo chatting to a group of girls. At least two of them want to fuck him. Call it my Spidey senses.

"Oi, T, 'nother beer, yeah?" Grimmjow calls, throwing his empty cup towards me. It drops a couple feet too short.

"Go fuck yourself," I say, even though I'll grab him another one.

"I don't need my hand tonight," he said, the girl in his lap squirming as he kissed her neck, "maybe you don't either."

"Fuck you!"

Halibel just smiled. I wanted to punch Grimmjow. I should punch Grimmjow. I should knock him out, but his voice is screeching loud which means he's sailing drunk, and I instantly forgive him.

If he was a little more sober, he'd probably be trying to text me what the fuck is going on with me and Hal who is following close at my side. We were never by ourselves.

Ichigo, unfortunately, was a little more sober than his blue-haired best friend and kept eyeballing me as me and Hal headed for what was left of the alcohol. All that was left in the cooler was three Heineken bottles and a big can of some cheap Milwauke brew. I grabbed it all, dropped a Heineken by Grimmjow who kissed me on the forehead, the bitch in his lap scowling at the action.

"Enjoy him, slut. He'll only fuck you once," I said.

"Fuck you!"

"No thanks."

Grimmjow and Renji howled with laughter. Me and Hal took what was left of our shitty bounty and took a seat on a log by one of the dying fires close to the lake. Most everyone was back by the vehicles 'cuz that's where everybody had gotten drunk. Our only witnesses were two boys passed out in the grass, one of them sporting a sharpie dick on their face. It was probably Grimmjow's handiwork, fucking immature prick.

It's classic, though. It's always funny.

Hal opened a Heineken as I popped the Milwaukee brew, taking a long swig.

"Can I have some?" she asked.

"Be my guest," I offered, watching her take a sip of the death trap.

In my opinion, anything tasted better than Heineken.

It was a big can though, and I was really starting to feel how much I'd drunk when I realized Hal was touching my shoulder.

"You okay?"

"Mmhm," I mumbled. I hope I was in control of myself. Once I got drunk, I either got extremely sleepy or extremely wired: either one wouldn't be good in front of Hal. I'm not sure if she's ever witnessed me completely wasted, but I do remember her being at Cirucci's birthday party when some jack ass had been harassing me all night and I finally decked him in the face. He'd almost fallen in the pool. Too bad he hadn't. It would have been way cooler.

"You going to Starrk's tomorrow?"

"Um…" I had to think. Tomorrow was Saturday. I had work at a shitty fast food joint for a couple hours in the afternoon and got off around eleven. Starrk's parties always started late anyway, and I'd forgotten about it. His mom and dad were out of state for God knew what and he always opened up his house for a good party when that happened, which was about once a month. His parents were gone all the time, just traveling and shit 'cuz they had the money to do it. Since we'd gotten close to Renji, Renji always made sure we were invited.

But if Hal was asking me to go, fuck yes I'd be there. It was always a good time at Starrk's anyway.

"Yeah. Won't get there 'til prob midnight."

"Good," she said, her hand on my knee. When had it gotten there?

I crushed the finished can in my hand, throwing it at the dying flames. I kept looking at her as she finished off her Heineken. I missed her hand on my knee.

Feeling brave, or stupid, I asked her if I could kiss her.

She leaned into me.

It kind of took off from there.

One second I'm just exploring her mouth, just really enjoying it, you know? Who doesn't like kissing, especially if the person's tongue is pretty good? I mean, we're sixteen, so we can't be amazing at everything, but I think Hal knows what she's doing. I've kissed and fooled around with a few girls at this point, and Halibel is by far my favorite.

And the next second?

I realize I'm biting into her neck at that spot I like so much, the juncture between neck and shoulder. I lick over it, but I love to bite. It's kind of my thing. My boys make fun of me, call me a vampire, but I don't care. Biting is definitely my thing, but I'm kind of embarrassed at myself for being this bold so fast.

I pull away slightly, freaked out, drunk, rubbing at my face as my gut squirms with heat.

"Tatsuki?"

"Huh?"

She leans into me again, and then we're kissing again. I like how she grabs at my shirt. Then she's doing this really, really cute giggle and I feel like my head is gonna explode.

I mean, I've thought this girl was hot for two years, but Jesus, this cute?

She maneuvers a bit. Her weight settles in my lap. I'm gonna have a heart attack. She's in my lap and my hands are on her hips. I groan when I realize she's wearing a fucking dress, her legs on either side of my hips, and my soft hoodie. Goddammit. I'm extremely turned on right now, and I suddenly wish that I hadn't drank so much, because I don't want that to ruin what we've got going.

"This okay?" she says, adjusting her weight on my lap again.

"Totally," I reply, my hands going to her ass to keep her grounded. She had swayed a little bit, and I wasn't the most coordinated person in the world, and I didn't want her falling.

Or maybe that was my excuse so I could touch her ass.

She arches into my touch and nibbles on my ear.

God dammit.

This is the luckiest night of my life.

She laughs, "You're so fucking cute, Tatsuki."

Word vomit again. Brilliant.

Then we're kissing again and we're warm and she smells so good even under the beer.

And we must be drunk because the next thing I know, I hear whooping noises. I roll my head towards the noise. Of course it's fucking Grimmjow and a few of the other drunk retards.

"Get it, T!" Grimmjow crooned, thrusting his hips like he was humping the air, "About goddamn time!"

"Fuck off!" I yelled, ready to throw Halibel off my lap and beat the shit out of my best friend, but Hal is laughing and I like her weight on me so my hands stay on her hips as I contemplate how to get back at Grimmjow when we're all sober.

Renji's eyes are bugging out of his head. Well, about six guys that have stumbled over to the fire are all gawking. Guys love that shit. Well, straight guys. They don't seem too upset that Hal is swinging for team vagina, or maybe they think we're just drunk. This is the first time I've ever made out with a girl in full-out public. I'm not an exhibitionist. I've made out at parties before, but even if I'm with a dude, we're in a hallway or the bathroom or something.

But right now I'm feeling good and riding my Hal high, so I just flick the leering boys off as Hal climbs off my lap, sitting by my side, her head on my shoulder. My face feels like it's been rubbed raw and my lips are probably swollen as fuck, but I don't care.

Totally worth it.

Grimmjow stumbles over to me with what's left of a joint. How there's any weed left at this point in the night I have no idea, but I take it from him gratefully. Hal takes a hit as well, smirking through the smoke.

* * *

When I wake up, I'm sandwiched between Ichigo and Grimmjow in his bed. We all smell like something that pissed on a bonfire. Not my favorite smell.

Me and Grimmjow are still wearing our shoes, Ichigo Docker-less. None of us had managed to wrestle into more sleep-worthy clothes, but this happens a lot. Renji'd dropped us off around four or five. I glared at the alarm clock on Grimmjow's side table: almost eleven.

Fuck my life. Work in a few hours and my head is screaming at me.

For some reason beer gives me a hangover. Give me top shelf liquor and I'm bright eyed and bushy-tailed, but fucking piss somehow manages to give my temples a bass line.

I roll over and wiggle my way out of the bed. Grimmjow could sleep through Armageddon anyway, but Ichigo's a lighter sleeper and wakes up almost instantly when I brush past him to raid Grimmjow's bottom drawer for liquor.

"Shots before breakfast, Tatsuki?" he asks, rubbing at his face.

"Hangover," I mumble, pulling out a nearly empty bottle of Captain Morgan. I hate this shit, but it'll take the edge off. I take two pulls then dig through another drawer for Advil.

Mission accomplished, I pull off my shoes and wiggle back into bed.

I realize I'm not wearing my hoodie.

Hal was wearing my hoodie.

Hal's probably sleeping in my hoodie. Or naked.

My face must be red as hell because Ichigo is smirking at me and I wanna hit him but I don't really have a reason.

"What?"

"So last night was interesting," he starts, looking up at the ceiling as Grimmjow snores like a jackhammer and convulses before going limp again. He's such a fucking weird sleeper: it's why I always get stuck in the middle: Ichigo can't put up with the bullshit like I can.

"Fuck off."

"No, I think it's awesome," he says, rolling on his side to face me, "Seriously, nobody saw it coming. Except maybe Starrk. He was the only person not talking about it."

I pulled my head into a pillow and tried to remember the rest of the night. My muscles ached from the tumble/wrestle I'd gotten into with Grimmjow eventually after the boys discovered me and Hal, but we'd generally just fucked around.

Then we left. So people must've been talking about us during that.

Not that I gave a fuck. I didn't care if the whole student body knew by Monday. People were malicious but it wasn't like somebody was gonna run to the principal or a teacher and rat us out for girl on girl action. People would talk about it, act scandalized, probably stare or make crude comments for a few weeks, then move on. Probably less than a week: people got bored easily these days.

"Everybody thought Hal was straight, even though she's been shooting guys down left and right. I thought maybe she was into college guys or something, but…this is good, right?"

"Ichigo, can we not talk about it?"

I could tell how excited Ichigo was for me, but right now, feeling the way I feel, I'm feeling irritated and bitchy. I'm not a morning person.

"Yeah."

"It's all good, babe. I'm not mad or anything."

"I know. You getting hungry? My stomach is growling like a motherfucker."

"Soon as fuck head wakes up, IHop?"

It was the only food by my house close enough to walk to.

"Most definitely."

* * *

An hour and a half later we're sitting in a corner booth at IHop, all of us with sunglasses on, super inconspicuous with our hangovers. Ichigo didn't have a hangover, but he must've felt left out so he had his sunglasses on too.

I attacked my pancakes as Grimmjow mowed through a philly cheese steak and Ichigo drank coffee and complained about his bacon.

"You got work later, yeah?" Grimmjow asked, elbowing me in the side. I stole some of his fries in retaliation while Ichigo leaned over from the other side of the booth and swiped a bite of my pancakes.

"At four. Get off at eleven, I think."

"We'll pick you up," Grimmjow said. 'We' meant Renji, "bring clothes with you or something."

"I'm not going anywhere without a shower, retard."

I can't stand the fast food smell. I wasn't going to sweat on top of smelling like grease and then head to a party. That's just nasty.

"I'll grab a ride from Kaname," I said. It was convenient having a work buddy who lived close to me.

"Fuck Tousen," Grimmjow said mid-text.

"He's chill."

"He's fucking weird."

"Grow the fuck up. You just don't like quiet people."

"It's always the quiet people, isn't it?" he said, suddenly leering at me.

"Shut up."

"She'll definitely be there tonight," Grimmjow continued, ignoring my scowl, "No wonder you want a shower. Gotta look good for your girl."

"She's not mine, dick head."

Grimmjow wiggled his eyebrows, "Will be, though."

"Shut up."

* * *

Work was retarded as usual. By the time I left, I'd nearly gotten suspended for talking back to a customer in the drive-thru over fucking ketchup. What-the-fuck-ever. I get treated like shit and make minimum wage: suck my fat cock.

Kaname gives me a ride, bass bumping. Even though him and Grimmjow didn't get along for some stupid reason, we'd bonded over different rap artists and screamo bands.

I thanked Kaname and headed inside, getting a shower and getting dressed as Blink 182 got me pumped up. I threw on fresh black eyeliner, the only make up I wear, and slip into my black cut off jeans, black Bullet For My Valentine t-shirt, and black Etnies. I throw on my silver wallet chain which is my equivalent of a purse, spray myself with Axe, grab my cigarettes and phone and text back a complaining Grimmjow.

I don't know why he's always in a hurry to get to fucking parties. It's not like we don't stay all night, impatient fucker.

Renji pulls up to my front door not even ten minutes later, Ichigo in the passenger seat as I climb in back with Grimmjow.

Starrk's house is about a twenty minute drive. His mansion is in a big, gated community with its own police station. It's like its own small city.

Fucking rich people. The manicured lawns probably cost more than my house.

But I don't have beef with Starrk. His family's rich as hell but he doesn't flaunt it.

We all head inside the mansion, some dirty rap song bumping the walls as people mingled and drank. Starrk didn't care if we smoked but we had to do it outside 'cuz his mom was obsessed with her paintings and shit.

After hitting the set-up bar (Starrk always had good alcohol, the Goose had been calling my name) I headed out to the patio to smoke with Grimmjow. A few kids were seated out there, just shooting the shit. Me and Grimmjow lit a smoke each, sipping from our cups.

"What'cha starin' at, fucker?" Grimmjow growled at one of the boys in the corner of the giant patio seated on the plush chairs.

"Nothing."

They were dressed preppy. We tended to get stared at just because of how we dressed: apparently preps don't believe in smoking either. Whatever.

Maybe they'd be less snooty once they were drunk, but I was doubtful. Sometimes people ended up at Starrk's parties that were stuck-up ass holes: if they weren't here to party, why the fuck did they come? Staring at people and judging them for having fun was something that pissed me off.

I finished my drink, ready to get slayed as Grimmjow lifted an eyebrow at me.

We stubbed our cigarettes out into my now-empty cup and headed back into the house, Grimmjow heading for the bar again.

Jesus Christ.

Halibel was talking to Starrk, her back to me. Was she trying to give me a heart attack? She's in a pair of black leather pants that cut off just above the ankle and a white shirt that is shredded slightly in the back with black pumps.

I love pumps. They pop the booty.

I can't stop staring at her ass when Grimmjow bumps into me, whistling in my ear.

"If you don't hit that, I will."

"Fuck you."

Grimmjow just cackles, "And you thought she was hot last night."

I feel underdressed and retarded as I keep staring at her, but me, Grimmjow and Starrk tend to be the most underdressed at parties. Her hair is pulled back in a braid again: it's her preferred hairstyle. I suddenly wonder what she'd look like with her hair free, all loose and crazy and sexy.

No doubt that really would give me a heart attack.

"Go get her, tiger."

For once I can't argue.

* * *

_A/N: Lots of tense changes in here, but I'm too lazy to go through it. I'm most comfortable in present tense, but I noticed there's a lot of random tenses in here. Hope it doesn't bother you too much. _

_Anyways, I should be updating Bands & Berries, Gasoline Sandwiches, and Tipping The Scales in the next few days. The poll winner was Gasoline Sandwiches, which surprised me, but I've got some spare time this week and will try to get it all done since I've got some inspiration for each. Hope everybody's having a decent new year. -TPP_


End file.
